


flowing with milk and honey

by LittleMissWolfie



Series: her banner over me is love [2]
Category: Havenfall is for Lovers (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Jewish Character, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, Jewish MC, LGBTQ Jewish Character, Non-Explicit Childbirth, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 03:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissWolfie/pseuds/LittleMissWolfie
Summary: When they find out Kelila’s pregnant, things start to happen very quickly.





	flowing with milk and honey

**Author's Note:**

> We were CHEATED out of seeing pregnant!MC in the game itself, so I took it upon myself to write a pregnant, Jewish MC here instead! Again, I'm not Jewish, and most of my information comes from some internet research, so if you notice anything I got wrong, don't be afraid to correct me. Let me know what you think!

When they find out Kelila’s pregnant, things start to happen very quickly.

Razi fires her immediately. Like, as soon as the words “I’m pregnant,” are past her lips, Razi starts writing out the severance pay check. “You’re bringing a new life into the world,” he says when she protests. “You don’t need to be working somewhere with heavy plastic balls flying around.”

“No one in town is gonna hire a woman who’ll need maternity leave in less than a year,” Kelila points out.

“We both know Mac gets payed more than enough to provide for everything. You don’t need a job.”

Kelila raises an eyebrow. “And you trust JD to work here with just your supervision?”

Razi laughs. “Your wife would be more than happy to arrest them if they do anything stupid while you’re pregnant. Speaking of which, where is she?” He makes a show of looking around. “You’ve been glued to each other since the mating ritual. I thought she wouldn’t let you out of her sight once you finally got pregnant.”

Kelila blushes. The “finally” is almost certainly meant to tease. She’d been joking when she told Mackenzie it would only take nine months for a baby Hunt to be coming, but she wasn’t far off. They took a week-long honeymoon by the lake while Mothman worked furiously on renovations to the house, took another three weeks to settle in to the house and prepare for the complicated ritual, and performed the ritual on the next full moon. The wedding really had been a formality more than anything, and Kelila wanted nothing more than to build a family with the woman she’d pledged the rest of her life to, so they saw no reason to wait.

“She’s at work,” Kelila finally says. “She wants to take at least a month off when the baby comes so she’s trying to give Elmer a crash-course in handling her job. Besides,” she adds, “we have to come up with an explanation for how I’m pregnant and we can’t concentrate long enough to think about it when we’re around each other.”

JD, of course, chooses this moment to enter the conversation. “Damn, she put a baby in you already?” They lean against the bar next to her, their usual mischievous grin firmly in place. “I thought it wouldn’t take long, but you really didn’t waste any time, huh?”

Kelila doesn’t give them the satisfaction of getting flustered. “At least I’m getting sex on a regular basis. That’s more than I can say for you.”

“Low blow, wolfgirl.”

“I try my best.” Then, side eyeing Razi, she says, “So, I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning—“

“—when you come to turn in your uniform, yes.” Razi slides the severance pay check across the bar.

Kelila groans.

*

Annabelle screams. They have a weekly pack dinner at the house every Sunday, and she can smell it as soon as she and Damien walk through the door. She pounces, wrapping herself around Kelila as gently as she can, and starts sobbing congratulations into her neck.

Damien is a little more composed, but Kelila doesn’t need a pack bond to feel his excitement. She wishes he’d taken Mac up on her offer to bring him into the pack officially after that nasty business with the Beast, but she respects his decision, and she counts the days until he’s ready to bind himself to them.

Diego knows, of course. He’s a certified midwife and has already insisted he’ll take care of all Kelila’s medical needs pro-bono.

“We have the money to pay you, you know,” Mac reminds him over dinner when the topic comes up. Kelila knows she still feels indebted to him for the suit he got her for their wedding.

Diego, of course, won’t hear of it. “You’re pack, and Kelila is carrying my little niece or nephew, and I have money to spare. I’m not charging you.”

The rest of dinner devolves into increasingly token arguments from both Mac and Diego. Kelila sighs into her chicken and resigns herself to another nine months of it.

*

Amare and Randolph bring a bunch of Mac’s baby stuff to the house. It takes a couple of trips to and from the truck because as soon as Kelila tries to help the three Hunts stare at her so hard she takes psychic damage.

“A few months ago, you were making me do pull ups in the woods,” Kelila points out when Mac finally sits back down on the couch and slings an arm around her shoulder. Her fingers come up to play with Mac’s wedding band just to feel the rush of affection through their bond. “Now you won’t let me pick up a cardboard box.”

“Diego said no heavy lifting,” Mac says.

“Ten pounds isn’t heavy, babe.”

“Humor me, please. I don’t want you bending over too much.”

Kelila has about five different suggestive comebacks she would use if Amare and Randolph weren’t here, so she just sends a general feeling of amusement over the bond and delights in the way her wife flushes. Aloud, she says, “So am I not allowed to pick anything up for the next few months?”

Mac raises an eyebrow. “You’re welcome to try if you think anyone wouldn’t stop you.”

She thinks about their pack and groans. Mac’s right; they’ll stop her from doing anything they deem too dangerous. “I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

Amare, lounging in an armchair Mothman insisted went perfectly with the couch, laughs. “We know, dear. Just let us spoil you a little.”

“Well, when you put it that way...” With a dramatic flair she’s gradually picked up from working with Razi and JD for so long, Kelila swings her legs up and drapes them over Mac’s lap. The laughter that fills the room just makes up for not being allowed to move boxes with stuff intended for the little life growing in her womb.

*

They agree not to tell Grace and Gwen until they’re in Havenfall next so they don’t risk Code Black finding out. Even with a trusted ally (read: the alpha’s sister-in-law) working there, neither Mac nor Kelila trust them enough to let them know about a possible werewolf baby.

By the time Grace and Gwen show back up, Kelila has the beginnings of a bump. It’s not noticeable unless she’s looking for it, but it’s definitely there. She and Mac have also settled on a story for the regular townsfolk; they’re doing IVF and one of Mac’s cousins volunteered to be the donor so the kids look like they’re biologically theirs. They’re not going around announcing the pregnancy to everyone, but people in a small town are nosy and it’s only a matter of time until they start noticing the weight gain and the hormones.

Grace has clearly just come from the bowling alley and she looks concerned. “Why weren’t you at work?” she asks in lieu of a greeting, not bothering to knock on the front door like she used to. Gwen, as always, is half a step behind her, her arms crossed. She looks like she’s trying not to care, but Kelila can see the worry bubbling underneath her cool façade. She has to blink back tears. Fuckin’ hormones...

“What did Razi tell you?” she asks them.

“Just that you were home,” Grace says. “But then we drove by the station and your truck was there so I knew Mac was at work. What’s going on?”

Kelila takes them into the living room because she knows they’ll want to sit down when they hear the news. As she left the kitchen, her hand wrapped around a can of pears. She’s been lucky as far as cravings go; Amare says she couldn’t get enough funnel cake when she went to the county fair pregnant with Mac.

Grace raises an eyebrow at the sight of the can. “I thought you didn’t like canned pears,” she says.

“Yeah, well.” Kelila shrugs. “The baby likes them.”

Grace nods like this is an acceptable answer, then freezes. Next to her, Gwen gains what is no doubt the start of a shit-eating grin. “The—the baby?”

Kelila rests a hand on her swollen belly. “I’m pretty sure I have the Psalms memorized at this point.”

Grace shrieks so loud Gwen winces, which is an accomplishment. She launches herself at Kelila and hugs her, but checks her strength at the last second so she doesn’t hurt her. “Holy shit, that’s great! How far along are you? You’re keeping kosher, right? No graveyards? Holy shit, I’m gonna be an aunt!”

Kelila doesn’t see Gwen move with her arms full of her sister, but she feels her hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t understand half of that, but congrats to you and the sheriff. You’ll be great parents.”

“Thanks, Gwen.” Kelila runs a hand through her sister’s hair. “I’m about three months in, keeping kosher, and staying far away from graveyards. Mac won’t even let me carry groceries into the house because they might be too heavy.”

“I knew I liked her,” Grace says, and Kelila laughs. Her ears prick at the sound of a car door shutting. Mac’s home for lunch. Grace is too distracted to notice and keeps on going. “Is Mac reading the Psalms with you in English, or did you teach her Hebrew?”

“What Psalms?” Mac asks, standing in the now-open doorway and looking upon her wife and sisters-in-law (yes, including Gwen, because she’s probably not going anywhere anytime soon) in confusion. “Babe, what’s going on?”

*

Sensing the beginnings of a marital spat, Gwen and Grace head to the motel they’re staying at for the night, so Kelila has to do all the talking herself.

Mac sits down on the couch next to her and puts a hand on her knee while she speaks. “Traditionally, the parents read certain Psalms more often during pregnancy. The father—which, of course, isn’t a thing for us, but would be you in this case—is supposed to read Psalm 20 every night before bed. If possible, there are some Psalms you should say while I’m in labor, too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Mac asks, and there’s a wave of sorrow over their bond so deep Kelila feels like sobbing. She didn’t realize Mac would be so hurt by this.

“It’s not your way, Mac. It’s mine and Grace’s. There are a lot of other traditions I’m not following either, because they’re a little inconvenient in a town like this. I can’t go to temple services every day, for example.” She puts a hand over Mac’s and squeezes it. “I’m fine reciting my Psalms by myself. I don’t want you to feel obligated to follow Jewish traditions because of me.”

Mac gives her a humorless laugh. “I feel like we’ve had this exact conversation about other topics before.”

“You’re right, of course. I’m just being dumb and hormonal.”

“You’re not dumb, you’re pregnant. You get to be irrational if you want to.” Mac leans over and presses a kiss to Kelila’s temple, and Kelila melts into her, becoming boneless so Mac can maneuver her onto her lap. “Will you teach the Psalms to me?”

“I don’t have an English copy of them. Our Torah is written entirely in Hebrew. But I could translate them this afternoon if you want me to.”

“Please,” says Mac. “Our baby is going to be Jewish, too, so I want to do this right.”

Kelila feels her eyes go hot and tries to blink back the tears. “I love you,” she says.

“I love you, too.”

*

Mac says there’s something weird about her scent, particularly around her stomach, so they go see Diego for an ultrasound. They haven’t gotten one yet because she and Mac are somewhat able to gauge the baby’s status by themselves, but Mac is concerned, so in they go. “It’s just a precaution,” Mac keeps saying. “The baby is fine, it’s just weird, this is just a precaution.” At this point Kelila thinks she’s trying to reassure herself rather than Kelila.

Diego must have cleared his afternoon because they’re the only ones in his office. “Did you two want to know the sex while you’re here?” he asks after Kelila has settled on the table and pulled her shirt up to expose her belly.

Kelila meets Mac’s eyes and nods. Mac says, “We have to come up with an English name and a Hebrew name anyway, so knowing that would help us narrow our options down.”

Emotion catches is Kelila’s throat at Mac mentioning their baby having a Hebrew name and sends a rush of affection over the bond. Diego feels the surplus through the larger pack bond and chuckles.

Mac holds her hand while Diego spreads the gel on her taught stomach and moves the wand. The gel is cold—probably even colder for her because of how hot she tends to run. Diego consults the screen the ultrasound is being lead to and freezes.

Immediately, Mac stiffens. “What is it, Diego?” she asks, her hand a bear trap around Kelila’s. “Is—the baby’s okay, right?”

Diego takes a moment to collect himself. The time stretches much longer than it probably is, but he does eventually say. “Your babies are perfectly healthy.” Mac sags against her, tension gone, and Kelila rejoices in the fact that her babies—

Wait.

“Babies?” Kelila asks, confused. Mac is too relieved to know nothing is wrong to really notice Diego’s word choice. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Diego says, “that you two are having a boy and two girls. Triplets.”

*

There’s a party, of course. Any good news in Havenfall is celebrated like it’s the end of the world.

Razi and JD close the bowling alley early so they can all gather there. Everyone but Kelila is drinking, which she finds a little rude. She’s the one carrying three babies, so she feels like she shouldn’t have to be the only sober one.

To Mac’s credit, she only has one beer near the beginning of the night and sticks to water for the rest of it. She hasn’t stopped touching Kelila since Diego told them they were having triplets, and even though JD absolutely rips them to shreds over it, Kelila relishes in the contact.

“You two really are something else,” Randolph says to them over the clamber of JD and Annabelle belting Mariah Carrey on the karaoke machine. “I’ve never heard of the ritual resulting in multiple births.”

Mac whines and buries her nose in Kelila’s neck to hide her blush. Kelila laughs and says, “Are you really that surprised? ‘Weird’ is basically the hallmark of this relationship.”

“That’s true!” Randolph laughs.

*

They’re barely through the front door when Mac sweeps Kelila up off the floor and into a deep kiss. “Need you,” she gasps into Kelila’s mouth. “Please, please—“

They shed their clothes and Kelila finds herself laid down on the couch with Mac kneeling between she spread legs. Her growing bump obscures a majority of Mac’s face, so Kelila reaches down to grasp at her hair. “Not that I’m complaining,” she says, “but what’s gotten into you?”

Mac whines. “We’re having triplets,” she says. “Three babies, all at once. You’re giving me three babies.”

Something clicks in Kelila’s head. “Wait, is this a turn on for you? Me having triplets?”

“You in general, but, yeah. Imagining you getting so big because of me, imagining three kids that look like us running around...” Her exhale is shaky and full of emotion against Kelila’s thigh.

Despite the pink dusting her cheeks, Kelila smirks. “You like me being full of your babies?” she teases, tugging on Mac’s hair until she groans. “Anyone supernatural that comes through town’s gonna know whose I am, because I smell like you all the time. Then they’ll see my belly and they’ll know you put those babies there, that I chose you, that I’m continuing your bloodline by mixing it with my own. Do you like that, alpha?”

Mac shudders. She nips at Kelila’s thigh and growls, “Mine.”

“Then take me, alpha.”

And Mac does just that.

*

“I’m gonna strap you to that chair if you don’t stop getting up.”

Kelila groans and struggles back into the armchair she’s been occupying on and off for the last half hour. She’s in her last month of pregnancy now and about the size of a small planet, and this is the last scheduled pack dinner before the triplets are slated to arrive. “I just wanna set the table,” she tells Mac, knowing her wife can sense her glower without having to see it.

Mac doesn’t bother turning away from the oven where their venison is roasting. “Annabelle can do that when she gets here. She’s coming by early anyway.”

“Or I could do it, since Annabelle is our guest and this is our house.”

“The plates are on the top shelves and I’m not letting you get on the counter to get them.”

“You could get them down for me and I can set the table.”

“That would just encourage you.”

“Babe, c’mon. Setting the table isn’t going to send me into labor.”

“I’d rather not take that risk.” Mac finally turns away from the stove and points at Kelila’s belly with her tongs. “Those three are staying right where they are until their due date. If they come any earlier I might have a heart attack.”

Kelila sighs but doesn’t argue further, because she knows exactly how stubborn Mac is. Instead, she stretches out her arms and makes grabby hands. “If I can’t come to you, you come to me. The babies want their mom to talk to them.”

Mac’s stern gaze softens and she sets the tongs down to obey her command. She shifts while she walks and presses her ear against Kelila’s belly to listen to them move. “You guys better not be giving your momma a hard time,” she says. “She’s doing a lot of work to make sure you’re ready to come meet us.”

“I don’t see how leaving a semi-permanent imprint of my butt in the cushion is hard work, but whatever you say.”

She sees Mac readying a retort when one of the babies—one of the two girls, Kelila is sure—kicks, and anything she was about to say melts away.

*

She’d heard stories about how women’s breasts grow to prepare for breastfeeding, but Kelila didn’t know how much it was going to hurt.

They’re heavy, now, way heavier than they used to be. Her breasts stopped growing in high school, settling on a perfectly respectable B cup, but now they’re at least Ds. She can feel the milk kind of slosh around inside when they move, which is often, now, because if she’s not going out she doesn’t put on a bra. They’re throwing off her balance, too; her body isn’t used to having a lot of weight on her front, and with the big boobs/big belly combo, she finds herself overcorrecting and bumping into things more often.

Mac, of course, has a minor aneurysm every time Kelila gets too close to falling over. She winds up guiding Kelila around a lot, with an arm around her shoulders or a hand on her back, exerting a gentle pressure to help her move. Kelila thinks she should be more annoyed at it than she is, but she’ll never complain about Mac touching her.

Diego says this is good, a sign that she’s producing enough milk to feed the babies. “You might even be able to exclusively breastfeed,” he says when he comes to the house for a check up. “Mackenzie, did your mom do that for you?”

Mac nods. “She says it’s better for potential wolves to be breastfed because of the whole pack mentality thing.”

“But she just had to feed you,” Kelila points out. “I’ll have three babies to feed.”

“You may want to consider supplementing with formula or pumping if that really concerns you, but I’ve known plenty of women who were able to breastfeed multiples without assistance.” Diego squeezes her shoulder. “Trust your body. It knows what it can and can’t do more than you realize.”

Kelila considers this, then says, “I’d like to try breastfeeding, but I think I’ll pump a little beforehand so I have some extra in case I can’t make enough, and I think we should have some formula on hand for if I can’t do it at all.”

Mac kisses her forehead. “That’s a great idea, babe. I’ll sent Annabelle out to get what you need.”

“Why Annabelle? We could just run out to the store—”

A familiar heat blazes through their bond and Mac gives her chest a pointed look, making Kelila flush. Diego chuckles and excuses himself, and Kelila finds herself lifted up in Mac’s arms and carried into their bedroom.

*

Kelila’s due date comes and goes without the triplets making an appearance. Diego says this is unusual for multiple births; they usually come early and small. On one hand, Kelila is relieved the triplets won’t be underweight, but she’s also dreading the act of birthing three consecutive full-term babies.

“They’re stubborn,” she tells Mac as they lounge in bed the day after her due date, “just like you.”

Mac raises an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you’re not stubborn, Little Miss I’m-Not-A-Werewolf-But-I’m-Fighting-Them-Anyway?”

“I always had you for back-up though.”

“Yeah,” Mac says, “you did. And you always will.”

Kelila cranes her neck up for a kiss.

*

She’s almost finished with dinner preparations the next evening when labor actually starts.

It’s more uncomfortable than painful at first, but it catches the whole pack’s attention. Mac and Diego are on the move right away, their presences a little panicked, but everyone else stays where they are like she and Mac told them to. No one else can help with the delivery and that many frantic people in one place would only stress Kelila out more.

Everyone agreed a home birth would be better than going into Diego’s clinic. Kelila decided against circumcising the boy right away, preferring to let him make that decision for himself, and there’s a good possibility she or Mac will shift during labor, so they don’t want to risk exposing their secret to any townsfolk who might come in for some reason or another.

Kelila knows they made a good choice when Mac bursts into the kitchen already wolfed out. “You’re in labor!” she says, grabbing at Kelila’s arms. “Sit down!”

“My water hasn’t even broken yet, babe. I’m fine.” As if to contradict her, another contraction rolls over her body, making her wince. “They just feel like bad cramps right now, honest,” she insists when Mac looks like she’s having a conniption. “I’m almost done with this steak and I’m hungry. Please let me eat before this whole thing really starts. I’d hate to let the meat your dad slaughtered go to waste.”

She’d been more than a little touched when Randolph offered to learn how to slaughter their meat so it remained kosher. She’d been practically vegetarian since her grandmother died because she didn’t trust a lot of the meat to be prepared properly. But when they started talking about her taking the bite, she knew she’d need the calories, and Randolph really stepped up to the plate.Mac knows how to do it right, and so does Kelila now, but Randolph decided to stock them up with a bunch of it so they would t have to worry about it and three newborns at the same time.

Mac reluctantly lets her finish cooking and then insists on sitting in the living room so Kelila is more comfortable when labor starts in earnest. Diego arrives not long after, black medical bag in hand. “How far apart are your contractions?” he asks in lieu of a normal greeting.

“About twenty minutes, give or take. Mac’s just overreacting.”

Mac squawks in protest, but Diego nods. Looking at Mac, he says, “The babies aren’t coming any time in the next twelve to sixteen hours. What’s most important right now is for Kelila to relax, and she can’t do that if you’re panicking.”

“Thank you, Diego.” Kelila reaches for the remote. “Wanna see if that superhero show you like is on, Mac?”

The incredulous look Mac gives her startles a laugh out of her. “How are you so calm about this?”

“Freaking out won’t do me any good, will it? I’m sure I’ll get a little more frazzled when my water breaks, but until then, I want to finish my dinner, watch TV, and cuddle with my wife.”

And so Mac goes, sitting as close as she possibly can and throwing her nervous glances every so often. It’s not quite as relaxed as Kelila would have liked her to be, but it’s better than nothing.

*

Kelila gets about five hours of sleep before a contraction so painful it makes her sit up and scream rocks through her body.

Mac’s awake in an instant, shouting for Diego, and be materializes out of the shadows half a second later. “Mackenzie,” he says, voice low, “I’m going to need to touch Kelila. Can you control yourself?”

Through the haze of pain, Kelila sees Mac’s jaw clench. “Yes,” she says, though it comes out as more of a growl than a statement. Then, she adds, “You’re pack. That makes it easier.”

Diego nods and looks to Kelila. “This will still probably take a few hours. Are you ready for it?”

Kelila tries to smile, but she’s sure it’s a snarl instead. “I wanna meet my babies.”

*

“FUCK!”

Mac, next to her, whimpers at the combination of Kelila’s shout and her iron grip on her hand. The pressure and pain are immense now, and from the way Diego hasn’t moved from his position between her legs for the past few contractions, it’s almost time to push. “You’re doing so good, babe,” Mac says in her ear. She puts just enough alpha oomph in her voice to try to calm Kelila. “You’re so close. We’re about to meet our babies. Just a little longer.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Kelila snarls.

“Yes, I know, you’re wonderful and I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

Diego says, “I need you to push on your next contraction. Can you do that for me?”

Kelila nods and, with the next wave of pain, starts to push.

*

“They’re perfect.”

Kelila doesn’t even look away from the two babies—the youngest two, a girl and the boy—lying against her bare chest. Mac is next to her in bed, cradling the oldest. Twyla, she reminds herself. Mac is holding Twyla, and I’m holding Issa and Wade.

Diego left the room once he was sure the babies were healthy to give her and Mac some alone time with their children and update the rest of the pack. Distantly, Kelila wonders how long they have until their friends are pounding on the door demanding to see their nieces and nephew.

She’s still breathing heavily, but she manages a smirk. “I won’t even tell the others you named Wade after a comic character.”

Mac whines, and Kelila reaches up to scratch at her wife’s head. Mac catches her hand and presses a kiss against her wrist. “Do you know what you want their Hebrew names to be?”

“Yeah. The girls, at least. Twyla will be Ziva and Issa will be Gili.”

“Why those names?”

“It’s a tradition to name babies after late relatives. Never live ones, though,” she clarifies. “That implies you wish the person you name them after was dead. Ziva was my grandmother, so Twyla gets the older name, and Issa gets Gili, my mother’s.”

“Do they have any meaning?”

“Ziva means ‘beauty’ and Gili means ‘joy.’”

Mac looks at their children with an unbearably tender smile on her face. “Those sound wonderful. And Wade?”

“I was tempted to name him Zeev. It means ‘wolf.’” Mac chuckles. “But I feel like naming him after a fictional character is enough, so I decided on Tamir. That one means ‘tall,’ and if he’s anything like you, he will be.”

“I wouldn’t mind if he were short, like you,” Mac says. “They already got my skin. I want them to look more like you than me.”

“Well, I want them to look like you.” Kelila cranes her neck up, and Mac leans down to give her a kiss. “They have my hair, and they’re going to be raised Jewish. They need some more of their mom in them.”

Mac looks ready to retort, but she’s cut off when she yawns instead. “We should probably get some sleep,” she says. “Who knows when we’ll get it next.”

“It’s worth it,” Kelila says.

“Yeah,” says Mac, gazing down at the three babies in their arms. “Yeah, it is.”


End file.
